Page Two

“But you’re a BUTCHER!” I scream. “You can afford to give me a better PRICE!”

The old butcher shrugs. “This isn’t a good meat cow, and thin besides. Sorry, but four silvers is my offer.”

“She’s worth TEN! You’ll give me TEN, you filthy CHEAT! DO IT NOW!”

The butcher’s face reddens with anger. “Keep your dying cow, hag. I don’t want it.” He ducks back inside his shop and slams the door. I scream a torrent of obscenities, knowing he can still hear me, not caring that people in the street are staring in disgust, or that Jack is only inches away, holding the cow by the rope. Once I’m in a rage, there’s no stopping it.

“Let’s GO!” I march past Jack who looks painfully embarrassed. I can’t help that. I’ve got to get off this street! Hate these crude little shops, so revoltingly rustic, no refinement anywhere. Why does EVERYTHING have to smell like animals? I’ve gone only a few steps when something bounces off the side of my head and bursts into pieces.

A small cabbage. I didn’t see who threw it, but the folk on the street burst into laughter. “Get out of our kingdom, you nutcase! We don’t want you here!” someone yells.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she was the Bird Witch!” says another.

I make ready to unleash my mouth on them when someone grabs my arm from behind. “Lunilla, come inside. Come inside.”

I look over my shoulder. It’s a woman, standing outside the local tavern. I think it’s called ‘The Mountain Goat’ or something like that, but I’m not sure.  All the signs in this village are just painted pictures because none of these morons can READ.

I know the woman. But I twist away and start up the road again.

“I’ve got soup on the fire,” the woman says. “Your boy looks hungry. I’ll make sure no one bothers you, just come in and cool your heels.

Curse her! She knows I won’t turn down food for Jack. But I SWORE I’d never go in there!

“Ma, please. I want the soup,” Jack says.

I snap a look at the woman. “Dunder in there?”

“Out getting barley,” the woman says. “Take your cow ‘round the back and come on in. You can’t walk up the hill on empty stomachs.”

I huff a sigh and look at Jack. “Do what Aunt Mali says and put the cow in a pen. We’re NOT staying long!”

Mali manages a smile as she lets me inside. When Jack returns, she serves us bowls of warm soup, dense with potatoes and ham. She sits with us while we eat, her hands in her lap and a patient smile on her face. She’s a large woman, nearing six feet in height, but none of the Dwarves went for small wives. And she’s always been decent with me – maybe because we’re both outsiders. She’s from the Tropic Realms, bearing the richer tones of those regions, and I’m an exile from the Forest Realm. Plus our husbands are – were – brothers.

“Good?” she asks Jack. He nods, deep in his bowl, scooping up the soup with a wooden spoon. I grudgingly admit to her that it’s pretty tasty.

“What’re you doing for money these days?” Mali asks me. “You need work?”

“How can I find work when everyone HATES me?”

“Maybe try not screaming at people. I’ve heard that works wonders.”

“I just need to sell the cow!” I snap. “You want it?”

“Excuse me.” She gets up because some customers have arrived at the tavern, a pack of woodcutters, hungry for soup. It takes Mali several minutes to serve them, then she checks on other customers sitting at tables around the room. Jack and I have finished our soup by the time she comes back.

“Oof!” Mali sits again, fanning herself. “Gets pretty tiring, let me tell you. Then I go home to four hungry boys. Can’t catch a breath, sometimes. And I just lost my tavern girl, Sadie. Thought maybe she’d quit on me until I heard she was seen poking ‘round near the castle.” She gives me a pointed look. “Guess we won’t be seeing her again.”

I can’t even think about the Bird Witch right now. It’s too much, with all my other problems. I just know to stay away from the castle - and from cats. Cats are dangerous.

All that aside, I’m feeling better. This tavern is pleasant, with large, bright windows, and goat heads mounted on the walls. Nice big tankards for ale, and a sturdy counter on which to serve it - probably Dunder’s craftsmanship. The room is big enough for dancing, and they’ve got an old piano by the wall. I can imagine the nights here are fun.

“What’s she doin’ here?” a gruff voice asks.

I stand up. Dunder has just come through the door, a heavy sack of barley on each arm. He gives me a hard scowl.

“Just giving her a little something before she heads back home. Your nephew too,” Mali says. “They’ve had a rough morning.”

“Or making it rough for others, from what I heard.” Dunder drops the sacks onto the floor. “Get on your way. You’re not welcome.”

“Dunder…” Mali says warningly.

“We don’t need her poison ‘round here!” Dunder growls. He looks like the other Dwarves, closing on seven feet, bearded and burly. But while the others have greyed, his hair has stayed hard black. He was also one of the Dwarves who carried me bodily out of the palace – MY PALACE – that horrible day. He had my right leg. I don’t forget stuff like that.

“Let’s go, Jackie.” I tug him away from the table. “Uncle Dunder doesn’t care if you go hungry.”

“We’ll take him off your hands anytime you like,” Dunder says. “It’s you we don’t want.”

“WE DON’T WANT YOU EITHER!” I grab my soup bowl off the table and hurl it at his chest. Doesn’t do much, but at least it shatters as it hits the floor. HOW DARE HE? Asking me to give up MY CHILD! I storm out of there, forgetting the miserable cow until Jack reminds me. Filthy Dunder! Once so loyal to his queen, now tossing me out like old beer. He will PAY FOR THIS!

It's mid-afternoon by the time Jack and I reach our cottage in the hills. Jack has been crying for the past half hour and won’t tell me why. The sound cuts through my nerves like a rusty saw. I tell him to go in the house and lie down if he needs to. I’ll take care of the cow.

It’s while I’m heading back to the door that I catch something moving in a patch of trees near our cottage. A white cat, fluffy and gorgeous, peering at me from under the brush.

“GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!” I grab a broom I keep near the door and charge at the cat, swinging the broom wildly. The cat stiffens, darts away, flying up the hill for higher regions. I’ve seen it before. Many people here – before they disappeared – were seen petting a fluffy white cat. I WON’T let it near Jack!

Out of breath, I sink onto a large rock under the trees. I want to make sure the cat doesn’t come back. I sink my face into my hands and cry heavily for several minutes. The soup is keeping my stomach quiet but suppertime will come fast. Nothing but two stale slices of bread to give my boy.

I cry myself out, wipe my eyes, and raise my head, sighing.

A fairy is standing right in front of me.